Archie did a little half-sneeze.
Harper laughed. “Okay, bedtime it is.”
They went back inside. She wiped his feet with an old towel, just for good measure, then they headed upstairs. Archie settled down on his bed with Mr. Brown, getting comfy and looking like he was asleep before Harper had even taken her shoes off.
Harper yawned suddenly. Frankie was right. Being in the sun wore you out.
What else was Frankie right about? Their mother?
Harper didn’t want to think about that. Instead, she went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. She wasn’t that tired. She could sit in bed and read, though. The tub caught her eye in the mirror. Or she could read while taking a bubble bath in that enormous tub.
When was the last time she’d had a good soak? It had been a while since her place only had a standard, built-in tub-shower combination, and that tub was barely big enough to sit in. A real up-to-her-chin soak couldn’t happen in a tub like that.
Now, the one behind her? Two people could soak in that thing. Maybe three. But three people in a tub would be weird, unless they were under the age of eight.
She checked the containers on the tub’s edge and found one that held effervescent lemon verbena bath elixir. That had to mean bubbles, right? That would do nicely. She cranked on the water and poured some in, then went to get her tablet so she could read.
Archie remained uninterested in her activities. Probably because he was afraid if he showed signs of interest, he might be the one who ended up in the bath. Funny how he liked water but hated bath time. Dogs.
She brought her phone and her tablet in. She played music on her phone, just a soft, easy to listen to station on Spotify, then she set it and her tablet on the edge of the tub, keeping them a safe distance from the water.
She secured her hair on top of her head, then got undressed and tested the water with one foot. A bit hotter than she’d expected. She adjusted the temperature at the tap and stood around waiting for the cooler water to do its thing. Now that she was naked, however, she was also chilly.
Another few seconds and she attempted to get in again. Still very hot, but she got both feet in and as she adjusted to the temperature, she eased down –slowly, slowly, slowly—until she was all the way in.
The water felt incredible. She turned off the tap and lounged back. The fresh, tangy scent of lemon verbena wafted up from the bubbles. It smelled great. She should get some more of that stuff. She looked at the sleek white and gold bottle, then did a quick search on her phone for the brand.
She found it. The bottle on the tub’s edge was fifty-nine dollars. She wouldnotbe getting more of that, but she would be enjoying it while it lasted.
She sank a little deeper and let the heat sink into her bones and relax her. With her feet against the other end, she could remain easily submerged to her chin. It was glorious. Everyone should have a tub like this in their life.
She almost picked up her tablet to read, but her thoughts roamed. Instead of going to whatever might be happening with Ford Keating or social media or her biological mother, they turned to Mitch Ripley and Arlington’s request.
When she took the oatmeal bar container over to his house tomorrow, she would be on her best behavior. Kind, pleasant, and understanding. She would treat him like a client, albeit a hostile one, but a client all the same.
She’d give him the same courtesy and consideration as anyone who was paying her, letting him see that she wasn’t a threat but that she was there to be a resource. He obviously had a mountain of grief resting on his shoulders. Grief was like a mask. It covered a person’s true identity.
The real Mitch Ripley was under there, somewhere. She knew he wasn’t about to hire her, but she might be able to help him through friendship. If he’d let her. That was really the pivot point for this whole thing.
She stuck one leg into the air, toes pointed, and watched the suds slide down until goosebumps covered her skin. She stuck it back under the water.
As much as she wanted to comply with Arlington’s request, she could only do as much as Mitch would allow. And right now, that was nothing. She couldn’t befriend a man who only spoke to her long enough to make a few sharp or sarcastic replies.
He’d made it clear he didn’t like her. Or her dog. That might mean there was something seriously wrong with him. Who didn’t like Archie? He was sweetness and light and everything that was right in the world.
She trailed her fingertips through the bubbles. Maybe Mitch should try a hot bubble bath every night. Hard to be miserable when you were up to your nose in foam. She smiled. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.
If she didn’t have some kind of breakthrough with Mitch, she’d probably end up never speaking to him again. She could live with that.
No. That was a lie. She’d be mad about that. Mad about not being able to do what Arlington wanted her to do.
Without his generosity, she’d have none of this. She sighed, blowing a few bits of foam across the tub. Could she tell Mitch it was Arlington’s request? He probably wouldn’t believe her unless she showed him Arlington’s letter and she wasn’t going to do that. The letter was private. For her only.
She’d have to come up with some other way. Maybe Joyce could help. It was worth talking to her about it. For Arlington’s sake, for his memory, Harper would have to keep trying with Mitch. She wouldn’t give up on him the way her mother had given up on her.
At least until he got a restraining order.
ChapterTwenty-Five
